never looked to see me fly
by Kaist
Summary: <html><head></head>In which Robin is a good mother and Chrom, in the back of his mind, just wants to know how his troops keep getting into these kinds of situations.</html>


**;I'm kinda outta practice for this little 'verse it seems like my mind has decided to carve out. So in the spirit of remaining consistent, here we are! A note on this 'verse, since at least one person seemed confused before: _the Morgans _are both (named and referred to as) Morgan on purpose. ****  
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><p>Looking at the scene before him, Chrom is almost afraid to ask. Robin is reading as calmly as though she's sitting back in their tent with the dozens of used candle stubs littering her collapsible desk- in spite of the undeniable <em>fact <em>that she's sitting on top of a pile of his (mostly unconscious) soldiers with a Morgan draped over her shoulders.

He blinks. And rubs his eyes.

...Yes, he is, in fact, seeing this.

"Robin?" he questions faintly. One of the people buried in the pile- Henry, he realizes with a jolt- groans and stops his futile attempts to move his hand. Chrom is the commander of an army. Unfortunately, that distinction comes part and parcel with the duty to investigate situations that are disrupting his soldiers from their training. His wife is the source of an alarming amount of these investigations, as it turns out, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes that the Morgans' tendencies towards mischief came from _somewhere. _And that somewhere clearly just isn't him. "...Do I want to know?"

"Ah, Chrom," she greets him genially. There's a spark in her eyes that has a slight smile turning up the corners of his lips, despite the complete and utter absurdity of the situation, and were it another moment he would take it to reflect on what that spark might mean. As it is, he's still got to know what happened. She merely tilts her head to the side, seeming remarkably relaxed for the moment, and bookmarks her place in her tome. "I'm sure you'll need to. Morgan and I," here she pats the sleepy teenager draped around her, "ran a full-course test on his tactical skills with his sisters. They're in the mess hall at the moment. No doubt that Lucina's got her hands full with Morgan's antics."

He raises his eyebrow. _I know how this is going to go, _he thinks as he clasps his hands behind his back. "...So, it was necessary to use a dozen of my soldiers like this?"

"Completely." Robin nods, the spark now really more like a manic gleam than anything else. In all honesty, Chrom's glad that she's found a way to loosen up outside of their mutual counsel in the dark of night- but did it have to be in a manner that created so much paperwork? "Their assistance was invaluable, and I daresay they've a better knowledge of how to work as a squad than ever before."

Chrom's other eyebrow raises, as does his mood. He'd have to be a fool to miss the reference to yesterday's discussion- their current defense strategy has been in use for a little while now and he'd been wanting to see what they could do to change things up so that the troops didn't grow complacent. One thing that had stuck with the both of them was the idea of larger squads. Once again, he has to marvel at Robin's ingenuity. "Details?"

"Can wait for our official meeting." She taps an ear.

He nods. It's a reasonable precaution to take in a camp as large as this. "That's fair. I think, though," he says pointedly, "that someone's going to have to clean all this up."

"As Morgan, Morgan and I were the ones responsible, we'll take care of it," Robin promises, and smiles at Chrom's relieved sigh. She pauses, eyes zeroing in on the bandages peeking out under his uniform sleeve. "Take care of yourself. Don't break any more walls now, eh?"

"I won't if you stop burning the candles 'till the morning light," Chrom tosses back casually, waving for a moment before he turns and leaves for the mess hall. He's hungry himself and the food isn't _that _bad, by his standards.

Robin looks at his retreating back with a warm smile before gently shaking her future progeny awake. Morgan does so with a sleepy yawn. "Well?" she asks expectantly.

Morgan smiles, a soft, genuine smile. Then he surges forward and hugs her, knocking them off the pile of their comrades and onto the hard ground. "Thank you," he tells his past mother fervently, savouring the pat on the back he receives. After a moment of silence, he speaks. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to tell Father that it was all an accident... Probably sit in the corner in shame for a while. I mean, it'd be okay, but I'd like to avoid that if it's at all possible, you know?"

She pulls back with visible surprise, stopping his rambling short. "An accident?"

The grin turns sheepish. "Y-yeah. I didn't mean to catch Henry with that trap! Or anyone but Inigo." He considers. "I didn't know that a Thoron tome would set off any of those extra effects, either."

"If that's what you can do when you're merely experimenting," Robin muses slowly, a grin of her own slowly building on her face. "I have to wonder what you're capable of when you go all out. You just might outpace me once you get older, you know."

Morgan's jaw drops.


End file.
